


Strip. Tease.

by von_gelmini



Series: Kinktober2019 [3]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Daddy Kink, M/M, Strip Tease, Suit Porn, a little bit of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 08:01:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20870876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/von_gelmini/pseuds/von_gelmini
Summary: For Kinktober2019Prompt:Underwear | Sleepy Sex | Fucking Machine |Stripping/Striptease





	Strip. Tease.

**Author's Note:**

> For Kinktober2019  
Prompt: <s>Underwear | Sleepy Sex | Fucking Machine |</s> Stripping/Striptease

“I’m sorry Petey, but some things are simply outside my skillset,” Tony said one night while he and Peter were sitting on the sofa talking about sex. They’d been going through Tony’s massively varied catalogue of previous acts. So far, nothing Peter has suggested was anything that Tony hadn’t done or wasn’t willing to do.

“But it’s not even _ kinky _. I’ve done it for you.”

“Yeah, but you’re a dancer, baby.”

“You’ve got moves, old man. I’ve seen the tapes.”

Tony laughed. “Okay, maybe. For dancing in a club or on a dance floor. Burlesque is something entirely different. My body’s not shaped like that. Yours is.”

“I didn’t say burlesque. I said a strip tease.”

“Sweetheart, you look delectable when you dance on the pole in the jet. You’ve put the stewardesses right out of a job. I’d break my back if I tried the moves that your gorgeous young body can make.”

“I didn’t say pole dancing either.”

Tony looked puzzled. “What did you mean then?”

“What is a strip tease?” Peter asked.

“Uh… until just now, I thought I knew. Been to enough strip clubs in my day. Pretty sure I know. But obviously you have a different definition. Is this some age gap thing? Gen X vs Millennial?”

Peter laughed. “No Tony. What is the _ essence _ of a strip tease?”

“Naked dancing and jiggling bits?”

“God for a genius you’re dense. What are the two words?”

“Strip. Tease.”

“Yeah. Strip — to get out of your clothes, in this instance, in front of another person. Tease — to tantalize said other person with something they can’t have… yet.”

“O…kay? I still don’t get it.”

“If I’m asking _ you _ to do a strip tease _ for me _ , you’d be taking your clothes off in a way that you think _ I _would find tantalizing. Not to fling yourself around on a pole or do… I don’t even know what because I’ve never been to a strip club and I’ve never even seen one on TV that had guys in it.”

“They exist,” Tony said with a smirk. “So… for me to undress in a way that will drive you crazy, frustrate the hell out of you, and make you so desperate for me that when you finally get me, you can’t help yourself. That’s the rules of this game, huh?” Tony’s smirk turned into a knowing smile. “Petey, oh baby. You think you’ve challenged me? Um hmm.” Tony stood and took Peter’s hands in his. “In the bedroom.”

Peter followed him. He was getting worried because Tony’s reluctance and hesitation was gone completely. He was worried _and_ turned on. Tony’s confidence, when he was being genuine, turned him on to no end. 

“Should I sit in the chair?” Peter asked.

Tony shook his head. “A lap dance isn’t part of it. On the bed would be better. You might want to prep yourself while I’m getting changed, because while it’s supposed to tease you, I’m not going to be teased and I’m not going to wait to take what I want.”

Peter tried not to whimper. He was pretty sure he failed. He and Tony fucked almost every day. Sometimes more than once a day. Prep for Peter involved little more than slicking up two fingers, pushing a bit of lube up inside of him, and wiggling them around a little bit. Especially since he liked feeling the stretch of Tony’s big cock when it entered him. So he was ready long before Tony emerged from their dressing room. He was expecting Tony to have squeezed himself into some of the lingerie Peter wore when doing his own version of a strip tease. Nothing could’ve prepared him for what he saw.

“Tony, when did you get that?” Peter’s hips twitched and he pulled the duvet up over him to cover his crotch. He was already responding.

“Remember when I had that meeting in Milan back in July? There was a little downtime and I visited Zegna Bespoke. I know English is all the rage right now, but I’ve always loved a properly cut Italian suit.” 

While in his dressing room, he hadn’t just put on a nice suit. It took so long because he’d styled his hair, trimmed his beard, put on a light touch of a cologne that was one of Peter’s favorites. He found an absolutely pristine white shirt with French cuffs that actually fit him, unlike most of his clothes which wound up being tugged and pulled until they were ‘comfortable’ rather than ‘fit’. His tie matched his pocket square and more shocking than that, his tie was actually pulled up properly and not worn like a necklace, hanging pulled down loose below the top button of his shirt, which was habitually undone.

“Oh my god. You look… I mean… you spend so much time hanging around here in whatever, that… fuck me… I forgot you clean up so _ nice _.” Peter licked his bottom lip. 

Tony didn’t put on any ‘stripper’ music. He didn’t have any ‘moves’. He just did the same thing he did whenever he came home from a meeting that he had to be ‘properly dressed’ for. He bent over slightly to look at himself in the dresser mirror and ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up, breaking up the overly gelled look, scruffling at it until it looked soft to the touch. 

Peter’s fingers itched to run through Tony’s thick, slightly silvering hair, replacing Tony’s hands with his. The bottom lip he’d licked was bitten. He bent one leg at the knee, making the duvet tent from something other than his hardening cock. And Tony hadn’t taken a single thing off yet.

The first thing to come off were Tony’s cufflinks. Platinum, each with a deep blue sapphire that complemented the lighter blue of his tie. He’d turned so that Peter could see the way his fingers worked slowly at the pins. There was nothing Tony was doing that was different from the way he normally undressed, but there was a slowness, a deliberateness, that wasn’t there at any other time. He knew he had an audience and he was playing to that _ specific _ audience. His tie bar went the way of the cufflinks. Tony looked down at his fingers as they unclipped it, drawing Peter’s eyes to follow his. He took all three pieces of jewelry and set them in a tray on the dresser. While he did, he looked back through the mirror at Peter. When he’d caught the boy’s eye, he smiled. Just a teasing little smile, but a genuine one. The kind of smile very few people other than Peter ever saw.

Tony stood again and held his left arm up bent, as the fingers of his right hand unbuckled the leather strap of his very expensive watch that cost more than many people earn in an entire year. It went into the jewelry tray, but with less focus. He was focused on something else. Instead of just tugging crookedly on his tie until he’d gotten it loose enough to be casual, he held the tail down with one hand and his fingers edged themselves into the knot, sliding between the silk folds, working it undone. Then he pulled one end until it came completely undone. Instead of taking it off, he left it hanging from around his collar. He turned to face Peter on the bed and leaned his ass back onto the edge of the dresser. 

“You always look so pretty in my bed, baby.” It was _ their _ bed. Had been for two years. But Tony calling it his made Peter’s one leg stretch out farther while his bent knee pulled up closer to his body. He was squirming on the black silk sheets of _ Tony’s _ bed. 

Tony unfastened the button on his suit coat and did the same to his vest. His fingers moved over each one, almost caressing it before pushing it through the buttonhole. His vest fell open and hung to the sides, like his tie did. The dark fabric drew attention to the white of his shirt. The glow of the arc reactor in the middle of his chest was diffused by the fabric stretched over it, but it was there. The thing that made Tony Stark who he was. It formed such a core part of how he saw himself that he’d had the socket reinserted and the arc/nanite device placed within it, even though it wasn’t necessary for his heart anymore. Peter loved seeing it because Tony loved who he was with it. 

Tony walked over to his wooden valet and shrugged out of his jacket. Peter thought it always looked sexy, the way Tony’s shoulders moved, the way he pulled one arm and then the other free of the sleeves. That had nothing on the way it looked when Tony was slowing his movements down, angling himself so that Peter had the perfect view. He let his jacket slide down off his shoulders down to the middle of his shoulder blades, without taking his arms out of the sleeves — the way a stripper might reveal her bra straps underneath whatever bit of costume she wore over it… only five million times less crudely with a hefty dose of _ smooth _ in there — Peter had no idea that his lover could be so cruel! And then Tony kicked it up a notch hotter after he hung his jacket over the fixed wooden hanger. He faced Peter and, never taking his eyes off the boy, rolled the cuffs of his shirt halfway up his forearms.

Peter couldn’t keep the whimper silent no matter how much he wanted to.

“What’s the matter baby? Thinking how much better these hands would’ve felt than yours did, prepping your slutty little hole for me?” The slide of the soft silk vest back across the crisper cloth of Tony’s shirt… that was definitely part of the ‘tease’ in strip tease. Tony chuckled soft and low at Peter’s reaction. “Baby, are you gonna have anything left for me when I finally get into bed with you?”

“Yeah,” Peter said on a heavy breath. 

Tony looked over his shoulder at him as he hung the vest on the smaller hanger in front of his jacket. There was a challenge in his look.

Peter gulped. “Yes Daddy.” 

Tony made an appreciative hum. He leaned back on the dresser and crossed his legs at the ankles. His fingers went back to caressing buttons again. Shirt buttons. So many buttons. He watched Peter squirm and swallow and lick his lips as Peter watched his fingers move downward, button by button. When he reached the last of the little pearly things, he tugged his shirt tails out from his pants but he didn’t take his shirt off. Peter was almost panting. His lips went from falling gently open and being bitten until they were wet and shining. Tony took four steps from the dresser to the bottom of the bed. He leaned over, balancing his hands on the mattress, letting his shirt fall open, letting the muscles of his forearms bear his weight. Peter started to crawl down to meet him.

“Unh unh baby boy. No touching. You know the rules.” Tony reached up and ran his hand down the duvet, feeling Peter’s lower leg under it. “But the rules don’t apply to me, do they?”

Peter was beginning to believe that nothing other than whimpers would ever escape his lips again. Whimpers and a, “No Daddy,” in answer to Tony’s question.

Tony turned away from Peter, and while he walked back to the dresser, he shrugged his shoulders and let his shirt fell off him, fluttering to the floor. He bent slightly and put his hands on the edge of the dresser. It pulled his back muscles taut and showed off the breadth of it. Peter was stronger. Peter had a lovely V-shaped torso. But Tony was solid, compact, more densely muscled as opposed to lithe and lean. Peter _ was _ stronger, but Tony _ looked _ stronger. He moved one leg forward and one leg back, pulling his pants tight across his ass. The benefit of a bespoke suit was that it was cut to fit your body precisely. It dipped in where it should, eased out where it should, and it hugged the shape no matter how you moved. Though in some positions it hugged a little tighter.

“Daddy,” Peter said, whimpering.

Tony looked at him through the mirror again. “Yes baby boy?”

Peter blushed and Tony chuckled. He turned around again and watched Peter’s eyes — dark now, not soft honey brown — as the boy raked his gaze over Tony. It was the kind of heated look that he usually gave Peter. There was something to be said for being on the receiving end of such raw desire.

Peter stared longingly at Tony. The man was stunning. Anyone who said he was getting old, didn’t have eyes. There was silver in his hair now and in his perfectly shaped beard. But if you could look at that and think ‘old’ instead of ‘distinguished’ ‘experienced’ ‘mature’ you clearly didn’t know anything. The reason for Tony’s signature facial hair was obvious. It followed his jawline, heightening the angularity of it. It framed his face, drawing attention to his lips and his eyes and those eyelashes that made Peter want to swoon. He called Peter Bambi when he was teasing, but it was Tony who had Bambi eyes when he was comfortable, relaxed, at home. Peter jealously guarded and protected the Tony that only he got to see. The one who looked at him through the mirror and smiled with deep lines creasing his face, lines from the happy smiling he’d done so much since he and Peter got together. 

Old could never be used to describe Tony’s body. Someone his age would be expected to have a ‘dad bod’. Maybe some men Tony’s age, but not someone who worked out, sparred and practiced fighting like the world depended on it, because the world _ did _ depend on it. He knew his body was often the last line of defense. It worried Peter of course, but it worried him less knowing how well Tony prepared himself to go into, and survive, battle. If the results of that also meant that Peter’s boyfriend had the drop-dead-gorgeous body of someone fifteen years younger than himself, well, there were perks to fucking Iron Man, after all. 

“You’re beautiful, Daddy,” Peter said, leaning back against the headboard with a sigh.

“Baby boy,” Tony looked at Peter fondly, “you make me feel beautiful.” He turned to the side and crouched down, untying his shoes. He stepped out of them and put them next to where his suit jacket hung. Lifting one leg, then the other, he pulled off his socks, setting them on the dresser. Even though the cleaning lady would be just as happy to pick his shirt up off the floor as from anywhere else, habit made him bend over, pick it up, and set it on the dresser. 

Tony walked over to the side of the bed, watching Peter watch him. “No touching, but can you do it without touching?” he asked, sliding the tail of his belt from his pants belt loop but no farther.

The whimpering was getting embarrassing. Peter slid over, letting his legs fall open off the edge of the bed. Tony stepped between them. It wasn’t a difficult task. Sliding the belt tail through the leather loop, tugging it just a little back against itself to release the prong, sliding the buckle frame loose enough to feed the tail back through it. Easily done with both hands while not touching anything more than the belt. If only the heat from Tony’s skin wasn’t _ right there _ begging to be touched. If only the dark hair of his treasure line wasn’t _ right there _ begging to be kissed. If only Peter couldn’t see the slight rise below Tony’s zipper just needing his hand to cover it. The little noises he was making were ridiculous.

Tony took a step back and ran his fingers through Peter’s hair. “Such a good boy.” Tony went back to leaning against the dresser. “Back in the middle of the bed, Petey.” His belt was unbuckled, all he had to do was slide it from his pants. He did that slowly like he’d been doing everything else. But when it was free, he folded it in half, holding it in one hand, letting it fall in a loop. Like the times when he spanked his boy with it. He looked over at Peter, crawling up the bed, his ass facing him (glistening with the lube he’d put up inside himself, which was leaking slightly out from the heat of his body), his hard cock there between his legs moving as he moved. Tony held himself there with the belt until Peter was back in place and could see him standing there, a little close-lipped smile, what he’d been thinking about plainly on his face.

“Daddy.” The word was long and drawn out, a needy whine.

Tony put his belt on the dresser on top of his shirt. “I saw how you prepped yourself for me when you were crawling on my bed. I saw how needy my little boy is, already hard just waiting for this.” He ran his hand over the bulge in his pants. He kept palming himself while watching Peter react. His shaft stretched down his thigh, held in by the fit of his pants, but there was a clear outline in the fabric that showed the ridge and the shape of the head. He unbuttoned the button with his other hand, but did nothing more. Other than keep stroking, curling his hand around his cock, more deliberately stimulating himself. It wasn’t until a dark, wet stain showed on the smooth fabric that Tony slid his zipper down.

With a slow, sexy, little shimmy of his hips, his pants fell to the floor and he stepped out of them. The front of his boxers tented and was dark where he’d leaked precome onto them. He walked to the end of the bed again, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear. He turned slightly to the side so Peter could see and he eased them down in the back, revealing his ass while keeping his front still covered.

“Well baby boy, I’m stripped,” he said, pushing his boxers entirely off. He leaned over, putting his hands on the bed, and crawled up to where Peter was sitting. “Are you teased?”  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> My Starker blog on tumblr is [starker-stories](https://starker-stories.tumblr.com/).  
Come on by and visit.


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